Dunsinane Hill
by Spootasia Tomoe
Summary: Macbeth never took the prophecy seriously, but after seeing the ents... well, he fainted to tell you the truth. Macbeth joins up with Merry and Pip, but will he help the quest or cause its failure? the ring is quite shiny, after all.
1. and to think that trees could walk

Disclaimer: I own neither Shakespeare's plays, nor Lord of the Rings. It's too bad too. The two of them just go together so well..sigh.. (and the first little part in quotes is directly from the play Macbeth by Shakespeare)  
  
Summary: A crossover between Macbeth and Lord of the Rings. I preach to you! There ARE ents in Macbeth! I swear it by the book! Tolkien knew it too!.. Anyway... That's where the story starts. Macbeth and the Ents and our loveable hobbit comedy duo (merry and pippin, duh!), and then we'll go from there. I'm still not exactly sure where I'm going with this, but.. On to the story!  
  
Recommendation: I definitely recommend that you read Macbeth and the Lord of the Rings series before you read this fanfiction, as it will not make much otherwise and it contains spoilers. (but I'm guessing you have, seeing by the fact that you're here, right?)  
  
Beware! In later chapters (and those not so late) pervy hobbit fanciers and slash will surface as a source of humor and humorous sappiness. As will overdone angsty-ness for short periods of time. I do so find overkill angsty-ness amusing.^ - ^  
  
Dunsinane Hill  
  
Chapter one  
  
By: Spootasia Tomoe  
  
"Enter a MESSENGER.  
  
Macb. Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.  
  
Mess. Gracious my lord, I should report that which I say I saw, but know not how to do it.  
  
Macb. Well, say, sir.  
  
Mess. As I did stand my watch upon the hill, I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought, the wood began to move.  
  
Macb. Liar and slave!  
  
Mess. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so: within this three mile may you see it coming; I say, a moving grove.  
  
Macb. If thou speak'st false, upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive!"  
  
~ Lightning! Thunder! ~  
  
Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha!  
  
And then an unidentifiable being of great power (namely ME, the omnipotent fanfictioneer) came into the story and with a few words changed the entire plot to do her own bidding! And the way they speak as well, because Shakespearean is just too darn hard to write, dagnabit! Mwa ha ha! All you characters shalt be mine eternal slaves! Mwa ha ha ha ha!  
  
Those fatal few words of change: Spoot! I claim this story for mine own! Off be with you characters! Go and fulfill thine new destiny! There! It be done.. Bwa ha ha..  
  
~ Thunder! Lightning! ~  
  
"Did you hear something just now?" Macbeth asked. He swore he had heard evil cackling but a moment before, but it had gone again. And what with all the hallucinations he had been having lately, he felt he should ask the messenger before him, just in case. Unless of course he was drunk. But then again, he did not remember having anything alcoholic to drink of late, so. Wait, was that a good sign, or a bad one? He stopped a moment to think on it.  
  
"No, sire. I heard nothing," the messenger replied, interrupting him. Blast, he had been hallucinating all right. Or perhaps it had been the weird sisters. They were so fond of their tricks. Anyway, he couldn't be drunk. Kings just didn't do that sort of thing. But he did not have the time to wonder of the other possibilities. There were more pressing problems at hand he needed to take care of.  
  
"Right, well I'm off. And mark my words! Should that forest be as rooted as the day it took seed, thou shalt hang!" He shouted as he sprinted to the door. He had to see this for himself. To make sure it wasn't true! It couldn't be! Unless what those old hags' spirits spoke was truth.. But no! It just couldn't be!  
  
"Y-yes, sir!" the messenger stuttered in response. As soon as Macbeth was down the hall and out of sight, the messenger began to pack his things with a passion. Not that he didn't believe what he saw, oh no. It was just incase the King should feel humiliated and decide to hang him anyway. Kings were like that sometimes. So hard to understand, they were.  
  
It can't be! It just can't! Macbeth thought as he ran down the hall and out of his castle. He went along a path to the field where the messenger had been as quickly as he could while trying his best to remain silent. And there in the moonlight he saw them just as he crept around his castle's edge. Great big beasts they were. They had moss hanging like beards and hair, gnarly old wood twisted into distorted faces and the eyes of the devil himself. They were a gruesome sight.  
  
In reality, they were quite splendid and majestic, but Macbeth was off his rocker so it's not too hard to understand why he wouldn't see them in all their magnificence. Silly, nutsy Macbeth!  
  
But they were still. Macbeth stood without a sound for a while, waiting for them to move. At first glance the trees certainly looked like they could, but they didn't. Was he mistaken? Had the young sovereign apparition lied to him? And the messenger? It certainly seemed so. He crept closer just incase. Not a one stirred.  
  
"Hah!" he laughed aloud to himself. They were but normal trees with what looked akin to faces. The messenger would certainly pay for making him sprint out here like this, that he would. Grinning like a fool Macbeth turned to go inside. But then he looked at them again. Were those trees. Closer?! Indeed they were! They were higher up the hill than they used to be! The great Birnam forest was higher up the Dunsinane hill!  
  
"No!" he shouted in disbelief, and then as if to make him quite sure that, yes, the trees had been climbing the hill, one of the massive creatures turned around and faced him. They stared at each other for a while until the tree made a slow step towards Macbeth. Macbeth, going mad with fear as usual being the prissy little wimp he is, screamed bloody murder like a little girl (sorry my fellow feminists, but the "insult" had to be used.). The tree took another step. Macbeth answered with another surprisingly high- pitched scream. But alas, the whole affair had been too much for the poor fellow and he fainted on the spot. Wuss.  
  
"What was that?" Macduff wondered aloud. He and the English forces had just stormed Macbeth's Castle, much to no one's surprise, and had secured everyone they expected to find there save the one they had stormed the castle for. Macbeth. He was no where to be found. But While Macduff had been aimlessly wandering around looking for some poor old sap whose head he could lop off instead, he had heard a scream. Two screams, in fact. "Could it be? A damsel in distress?!" He asked no one in particular.  
  
Yes, THAT was how girly (sorry feminists, yet again.) Macbeth's scream had been. Ghosts, guilt and plain insanity had taken its toll on Macbeth and many an unfortunate English student wondered if he would ever gain back his manly manliness again. If he had ever had any manly manliness to begin with, that is.  
  
~ Me thinks not.. Mwa ha ha ha ha! ~  
  
~ Ahem. ~  
  
And so Macduff sprinted 'round the castle's perimeter in hopes of saving a distressed maiden with whom he could flirt with later. Who cared if his wife was just recently murdered? Certainly not Macduff by the speed at which he was going.  
  
Finally he turned the last corner and there before him he saw a graceful figure collapsed in upon itself. Rubbing his hands together in eagerness, he moved closer. The fair figure became clearer and he saw that it was.. Macbeth..!  
  
"Ugh!" he cried in disgust at himself, stopping in his tracks with fear. Fair? Graceful? He'd never be able to look at another damsel in distress again! Macbeth had poisoned his mind! But, was it for the better? Looking at the king lying there he realized how helpless Macbeth was. so. so innocent . no, no, NO! NOT innocent! Bloody murdering tyrant!. whom was quite attractive in all his tyrannical glory! You had to admit, through the delusions and madness, Macbeth rocked!  
  
"AAAAGH!" Macduff shouted in fear, ready to flee the sight of handsome Macbeth sprawled upon the ground. He was scaring himself. But before leaving he stole another covert glance at the king and realized that Macbeth was sprawled upon the ground. Just lying there. Sprawled.. Not moving. Just.. sprawled.. lying there.. Upon the ground..  
  
~What's that? Oh yes, a story. Sorry! Moving on pass sprawled, yet surprisingly handsome Macbeth.. ~  
  
"Hmm." He stepped closer and realized, Macbeth was dead! How interesting. Normally Macduff would shout for joy or jump in the air in triumph, but he felt a slight twinge of regret.. But only because he didn't get to lop off the tyrant's head of course! "Well," he said to himself, "looks like my work here is done." And then he left without another look back for fear of finding himself admiring the dead king once again. But what would he do now? A moment of confusion passed over him as he came to another realization. His whole purpose in the play had just gone up in smoke!  
  
In reality it hadn't, seeing as Macduff was actually far too agitated to be able to safely say that Macbeth was dead. Frightened by his own random slashiness he overlooked one very important thing about the ex-despot's body. The chest was still moving up and down in a rhythmical motion, usually signifying breathing and thus life. But seeing as Macduff had never been to medical school, he cannot be expected to have known what such movement meant. All right, I lied. Yes, he can be expected to have been able to recognize breathing but I felt I should at least make an effort to lessen his stupidity, seeing as I'm writing him that way. Sorry Macduff. And, reader, I promise never to lie again. *cough, cough, shifty glance*  
  
. His stomach growled. "Time for dinner!" Macduff declared happily to himself and then skipped happily away, though somewhat still shaken by his uncalled for slashiness. Maybe he'd come back after desert and lop Macbeth's head off anyway just to prove he thought the man a prat. Yes, it was a date. No! NOT a date! A plan! A PLAN!!!! Macduff ran the rest of the way in turmoil, clutching his head in horror.  
  
~*~Poor Macduff. In denial he is, I do believe. And with that said, onward to our dearest hobbit duo! ~*~  
  
Pippin was tired. He and Merry had been travelling with the ents for some time now and he was getting bored. They should have reached Isengard by now, but Pippin had a feeling they were no where close to it. He had tried to sleep, but Pippin just wasn't the kind to seep on the move. He liked to do it properly. You know, not moving, on the ground, pillow, blanket. he sighed and his stomach grumbled.  
  
"Merry?"  
  
"What Pippin?" Merry asked halfheartedly in a stupor.  
  
"Just wondering if we can stop to eat is all," Pippin said optimistically. Merry didn't reply but went off into an uneasy doze. "Can we?" Pippin asked again, waking Merry up, much to Merry's disappointment. Merry was having a very pleasant dream at the moment involving three barrels of dwarf ale, a couple more of the best pipe weed in all of the shire, and bar room full of young hobbit-lasses.  
  
"No," Merry replied.  
  
"But why not?" Pippin asked, confused. He was hungry and surely Merry was too. Wouldn't that normally call for a meal?  
  
"Because-" Merry began to reply but was then cut off as the old ent that carried them, Treebeard, lurched forward up a hill. Merry began to loose balance but regained himself by grabbing more firmly onto the ent's shoulder, who took no notice of the action. "Because," he began again with a sigh, "we finished our lembas ages ago. And so there's nothing left to eat, you see? We didn't carry any food into Fangorn with us."  
  
"Oh, yeah, I forgot," was all Pippin said as he thought this over. The young Took settled back into Treebeard's shoulder uncomfortably with a pout. Suddenly his face lit up. "Do you think there will be tea and crumpets at Isengard and Mt. Mordor?!"  
  
"No!" Merry shout incredulously. "What ever gave you that idea, Pip? Where in all of the Shire did you get such an idea?!" Merry stared at him skeptically. Pippin simply smiled.  
  
"Because," he said with a grin, "Orcs have to eat right?"  
  
"I assure you, my dear Took, that Orcs definitely do NOT eat tea and crumpets." Merry told him with a smile. He shook his head and leaned back into Treebeard's trunk, sitting sideways upon his shoulder and hiding himself from Pippin's view.  
  
"Not even Sauron or Sauruman?" Pippin asked, leaning forward to raise his eyebrows at Merry. Pippin couldn't understand why they wouldn't have tea and crumpets. Everyone needed to eat. And if you're going to eat, why not eat something pleasant and filling?  
  
"Oh, Pippin," Merry said, exasperated, "I am quite sure that they do not eat tea and crumpets. And don't say their names! They could be looking in on us right now! And that eyeball definitely couldn't drink tea let alone eat anything. He has no mouth!" Merry settled back into his half-sleep, eyelids drooping.  
  
"It still makes no sense." Pippin grumbled. "Do you think they'll have carrots?"  
  
"No, Pip, they'll have no carrots."  
  
"None? But everyone needs carrots! What ever will they do without their carrots, Merry?"  
  
"I don't know, Pippin, I couldn't even tell you if I tried."  
  
"It's too bad then. Them without carrots and all," Pippin said with a sigh. He couldn't imagine a life without carrots. That must be why Sauron was trying to take over all of middle earth! To get some carrots!  
  
"Oh, Merry! If we give them carrots, do you think they'll stop trying to take everything over?!" Pippin asked excitedly. It seemed like a good idea, but Meriadoc Brandybuck was an older and more experienced Hobbit.  
  
Merry chuckled and leaned forward to look at Pippin. He found it very humorous and it was easy to see the laughter in his eyes. "Oh, Pippin!" he said between giggles, "Why would they want carrots? What could they possibly use them for?" Merry began to laugh again.  
  
"Everyone needs carrots, Merry. They're good for you. You know that. They're one of your favorites!" Pippin didn't think it was funny, but he was starting to see the flaw in his plan. It they didn't eat carrots or couldn't eat at all, why on earth would they want any? Still, it wasn't that funny. At least Pippin was thinking of ways to stop the war.  
  
"They may be my favorites, Pip, but I'm no orc!" he said between gasps for air.  
  
"It's really not that funny Merry," Pippin said with a pout. He was starting to feel a little hurt. If he hadn't been so innocent and pippinish he might have made a jest off Merry's 'but I'm no orc,' comment. Instead, the potential insult will remain in existence through implication only.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, Pippin. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. You're right. It's not that funny. Sorry," Merry said, giggles subsiding. He leaned back once more, trying to escape to his dreamland bar room again. A chuckle escaped him now and then though.  
  
"Merry," Pippin said a while later, awakening his cousin yet again. Merry had just fallen asleep and reached a good part in the dream before Pippin's voice came in making the whole thing dissolve as Merry woke.  
  
"What is it now, Pippin?" he asked, quite annoyed at the younger hobbit.  
  
"Do you know when we'll get there?"  
  
"Where, Pip?" Merry responded, eyes still closed.  
  
"To Isengard," Pippin replied. He was still bored, still hungry and didn't feel like asking Treebeared or any other ent when they would arrive. No matter what anyone said, ents weren't very good conversationalists. A little boring actually. And they droned on and on forever and ever. Pippin wished they were a little more "hasty," as the ents called it.  
  
Pippin really couldn't complain about an ent's talking problems though, being a hobbit and all. (Ex: ooh! We're in the middle of a completely pillaged and destroyed fortress! Instead of talking about what happened to it, let's talk about the origin of pipe-weed! Woot!) But still being young, he was a little to close-minded and decided to be annoyed by ent-dialogue anyway.  
  
"How'm I supposed to know, Pip?" Merry asked, staring at him steadily now.  
  
"I don't know. Just thought I'd ask," he said with that cute Pippin pout we all know and love so well.  
  
"Well, Pip, all I can tell you is that we'll get there when we get there." Merry decided to give up on getting back to his dream. He'd never get any sleep at this rate. Not with Pippin's questions and all. Though they were pretty amusing.  
  
"Do you think Frodo and Sam are okay?" Pippin asked randomly.  
  
"I can't rightly say. Nor can I say about Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas. I hope so though." there was a moment of silence and only a snapping of twigs and series of dull thuds could be heard as the ents progressed.  
  
"Do you think they're hungry, too?"  
  
"Oh, Pippin!" Merry exclaimed, "Is that all you think about? It's like your stomach rules your mind!" Merry glared at him.  
  
"But I'm hungry and I can't help it! I need to eat. We already missed elevensies. And those ent draughts just aren't filling enough." he complained.  
  
Merry's stomach growled. "Hm, I know what you mean about those draughts. Maybe stopping wouldn't be such a bad idea after all," he confessed. Though the ent draughts had indeed made them taller much to their delight, the drinks weren't exactly, well, solid. Besides the fact that they were actually liquids. still, you know what I mean.  
  
"Yeah! Now you're talking Merry!" Pippin said, beaming. Geez, it sure was easy to cheer the young Took up. Merry smiled despite himself. Pippin was just so.. so excitable.  
  
" 'Scuse me, Treebeard?" Merry asked uncertainly.  
  
"Hoom?" Treebeard moaned in reply.  
  
"Can we stop and look for some food a bit?" Pippin chimed in with a smile.  
  
"No, hoom, not just yet, little hobbits." was all Treebeard said.  
  
"But why not?" Pippin was confused. And hungry. As was custom with Pippin when both confused and hungry, he put on an undeniably cute face. It didn't appear to have any effect on Treebeard and Pippin sighed, making Merry laugh.  
  
"Looks like you'd better save it for the young hobbit-lasses, lad!" he said with a lecherous grin.  
  
"Oh, be quiet Merry!" Pippin replied, looking daggers at the Brandybuck.  
  
"What? What did I do?" Merry asked him, still laughing.  
  
"You could at least help me!" he said.  
  
"Oh, come on, Pip! Don't be so sensitive!" Merry answered. And then both their stomachs growled, loud and deep like thunder. But not loud enough to drown out two very feminine screams from not very far ahead. All the ents had stopped, and neither of the hobbits realized 'till the scream brought them back to their senses. They had been too involved in their minor argument.  
  
"What was that?!" Pippin asked excitedly, a hint of fear detectable in his voice.  
  
"I don't know," Merry replied nervously. "Perhaps the ents scared someone."  
  
"Perhaps," Pippin said doubtfully.  
  
"Hooom.. There are, hmm, men ahead.," Treebeard informed them from below.  
  
"Men!" Merry repeated. They didn't expect to meet any men along their way. It came as quite a shock. The two of them sat for a while, listening for anymore screams. Finally Merry asked to be let down. Treebeard obliged, and brought the Hobbit slowly to the ground. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Merry was off.  
  
"Wait!" Pippin shouted, but Merry didn't seem to hear him. Pippin, in his haste to get to the forest floor, he tried to slide down Treebeard's trunk and ended up falling to the ground halfway. Jumping up and patting down his clothes, he took off. "Wait for us, eh, Treebeard?" he said over his shoulder as he jogged away in pursuit of Merry.  
  
"HHmmm..." Treebeard groaned. Pippin wasn't sure if that was an agreement or not, but he didn't wait to find out. Running through the forest he called for Merry softly, worried that a man might hear him. He passed an ent every once and a while, but there was no sign of Merry. Then Pippin caught sight of him crouching in a bush. The young Took cautiously made his way over, trying to keep out of sight of whatever Merry was hiding from.  
  
"Merry!" he whispered. Merry turned towards him and motioned for him to come next to him in the bush.  
  
"Look," he replied, once Pippin was close enough.  
  
Pippin looked through the leaves and saw two men on top of the hill he and Merry had just ran most of the way up. "Who are they?" he asked in a hoarse whisper, but Merry only put his fingers to his lips and pointed at the men for him to watch.  
  
The two hobbits sat in the bush silently, watching the men unawares. And it was very strange, indeed, what they saw. One man was lying on the ground, as if dead. The other was standing a few yards away, his face aghast. No, loving. No, aghast. Wait, loving again. It seemed the living one just couldn't make up his mind about how he felt.  
  
"AAAAGH!" the man suddenly cried, taking a step beck. He looked quite frightened now. Both Merry and Pippin recognized it as the expression most commonly seen upon their dear cousin Frodo's face. Pippin turned to Merry.  
  
"Merry, Frodo looks like that all the time. Do you think he has trouble with how he feels? Maybe something to do with Sam? Sam is with him all the time, after all," Pippin asked in a low voice.  
  
"Shut up!" Merry hissed, punching him lightly in the arm. Shaking his head slightly like Pippin had said something extremely rude, he turned back to the men before them.  
  
"Just asking." Pippin said quietly as he rubbed his arm. He hadn't really meant the statement in quite the way Merry thought he had.  
  
~Disappointed Frodo/Sam slashers: Aww... sniff sniff v . v ~  
  
' Pippin's just too innocent to get it in such a way.  
  
~Pippin fans: Aww! How cute! (cuddles Pippin action figures)~  
  
Merry nudged Pippin in the ribs and Pippin stopped rubbing his arm irritably to watch the men again. The living one was staring curiously at the one on the ground. "Hmmm.." A look of realization suddenly spread across his face. Then a look of intense regret. He was a peculiar man indeed, but his face was very expressional and it made him seem like a good fellow. The man stepped back from the other and said loudly, as if trying to convince the whole world he needn't be there any longer, "Well, looks like my work here is done." And then he began to walk away. A few yards from the seemingly dead man his stomach growled and he stated, "Time for dinner!" before skipping away gleefully. When he was almost out of Merry and Pippin's sight he went aghast again and sprinted away, clutching at his head in fear.  
  
"Strange one, eh, Merry?" Pippin said, still in the bush.  
  
"Yeah," Merry agreed. "Perhaps he's had a couple."  
  
"A couple of what?" Pippin asked, confused.  
  
"A couple of pints, you foolish Took! What else?" Merry replied, getting to his feet and walking out of the bush.  
  
"I don't know. Pipeweed, maybe. You know how it makes you go all funny after a while, and often you get hungry like that after you've had too much," Pippin said (Pippin fans: aww! he gets the munchies! How cute! (Pippin figures cuddled to death)), following Merry out of the bush, though not sure what the Brandybuck was doing. "Where are you going, Merry?" he asked when he saw the older hobbit leaving the cover of the forest.  
  
"To the dead man of course," Merry replied.  
  
"How do you know he's dead? Maybe he's just sleeping," Pippin said from the shelter of the trees.  
  
"Well, no one would stand over someone sleeping, scream, make all those faces for no reason and then leave them behind!" Merry answered, looking over his shoulder at Pippin as he went. And then Merry had reached the man and was standing over him, looking down with the most peculiar expression.  
  
"What is it?" Pippin asked, still afraid to leave the forest.  
  
"Huh." he murmured, cocking his head to one side.  
  
"Is he dead, Merry?" Pippin inquired with growing curiosity.  
  
"Come see if you want to know so bad!" Merry sighed as Pippin hesitated. But Pippin reluctantly came out of the forest none the less. He was just too curious to help himself. "Really," Merry said as he approached, "What a silly young hobbit you can be sometimes!"  
  
"Only because I'm hungry," Pippin remarked, aware of the emptiness in his stomach once more.  
  
"If you're that hungry you could eat grass, Pip, or leaves, though I bet the ents wouldn't like it," Merry replied, still looking at the man upon the ground with a curious expression. "Or raid that castle up there," he added with a grin. "Don't forget to bring me a pint, too, if you decide to."  
  
"Hmm." Pippin murmured in response, clearly considering the above choices. None of them seemed very promising in the filling of his stomach in the long run though, and so he dismissed them. "So what's it you were so interested in, Merry?"  
  
"Take a look," he said. Pippin looked at the man and ended up cocking his head to one side as well. "Doesn't look dead, eh?" Merry asked.  
  
"No, not really." Pippin agreed. "A bit harmless looking, actually."  
  
"And kind of sorrowful."  
  
"And scared."  
  
"And pitiful. But definitely not dead."  
  
"Definitely." Pippin agreed again. "What should we do with him, Merry?"  
  
"I don't know," he said still looking at the man. "Take him back to the forest and wake him up I guess?" he suggested, looking up and shrugging his shoulders.  
  
"But maybe he's a servant of Sauron."  
  
"Maybe. But maybe he can help us. Look at his clothes. They are detailed, fine, and expensive. I bet you anything that castle's his home up there," Merry said with amazing deductive skill, pointing at the great building on some elevated land not too far away.  
  
Pippin looked up at the castle. It was large and warm light spilled out of its skinny windows. Being so massive, one could only assume it held many people within its walls. And where there were many people, there was bound to be much food. Not to mention the other man had said it was time for dinner. Pippin's stomach growled again eagerly.  
  
".. Perhaps we should wake him up," Pippin said, changing his mind. He crouched down to look at the man's face for any signs of life. His lower lip trembled now and then, but that was all.  
  
"In the forest though," replied Merry, also stooping down to look at the unconscious human. "We don't want any of the other men to see us. We want to convince this one we are friends before we meet the others. And he may be an outcast, seeing how he was left here."  
  
"Poor fellow," said Pippin. "Being left behind like this. I wonder why he was."  
  
Merry shrugged again and stood up once more. "Who knows. But my stomach's not about to care and neither am I. Even if he was a murderer and a thief of titles, I think I'd still help him I'm so hungry."  
  
Pippin nodded vigorously. "Yes, let's wake him up right away, Merry! I feel like I could eat all the food in the world and never grow full."  
  
With that the two hobbits dragged the man into the forest. It was hard work, him being so large and them so small, but they got through it okay. Little did they know what they were getting into for it WAS a murderer and a thief of titles that they were helping. He was also a deranged lunatic with no sense of morality, but they didn't know that either. Oh well. They had finally reached Treebeard again, who was in the same spot they had left him in and there they laid the man down.  
  
"How should we wake him up?" Pippin asked after he had regained his breath.  
  
"I don't know," Merry answered.  
  
"Maybe we should yell at him," Pippin suggested.  
  
"Or splash him with water," Merry replied.  
  
"Or kick him," said Pippin.  
  
"Kick him?" Merry asked, frowning. "Pip, that's not going to help! That might injure him!"  
  
"I only meant nudge him in the side a little. Not boot him in the head, you know," Pippin responded, eyes downcast.  
  
"I don't think that would help much either, Pippin," Merry answered, hands on hips.  
  
"Well we could kick him harder if we wanted. It's just, it might hurt him if it's too hard," Pippin said.  
  
"That's what I'm getting at, Pip!" Merry argued, exasperated.  
  
"Well, I think if it's just right, it might work. And we don't have any water anyway," Pippin reminded Merry, trying to justify his suggestion. At that moment Macbeth opened his eyes, but neither of the hobbits noticed. They were to busy deciding whether to kick him or not, and if so how hard and where.  
  
At first Macbeth thought he was in a dream. Then he wasn't so sure. Everything seemed real enough, but it was all so strange. It couldn't possibly be real.  
  
Ah, but we thought those treepeople were fake too and look at all the good it got us. Start believin' bud or you won't be able to get us out of this! He thought to himself, using the royal we. Or perhaps he was just crazy and had a split personality. He wasn't sure yet, but neither idea seemed quite becoming. He shouldn't use the royal we, seeing as he probably wasn't royal anymore and he didn't want to give anything away through his speech to others.  
  
Speaking of others..  
  
Macbeth finally became aware of the two children standing above him. Well, no. That wasn't right. They weren't children. They were adults, but... short. Really short. It was kind of disturbing how short they were. Yet the more disturbing part of the moment was the fact that they were arguing about whether or not to impale his sides with their miniature boots heels. Of which, he was quite certain, were bound to be very hard.  
  
"Just a small kick," said Pippin, still fighting for his way.  
  
"No, Pippin! How many times do I have to tell you? We're trying to wake him up withOUT breaking any of his bones!" shouted Merry. He was annoyed and Pippin looked down at his feet underneath his stern glare. Well, thought Macbeth, at least one of the munchkins has some sense.  
  
"But I'm hungry!" whined Pippin. His stomach growled again and he scuffed the ground with the sole of one boot impatiently.  
  
"Me too, so just stay here while I go find some water. And do not kick him!" said Merry, turning to leave. Macbeth blinked a couple times. He was still a little out of it and didn't quite yet realize the full gravity of the situation. Suddenly the full weight of it hit him. He was in the middle of a forest full of moving trees on the ground with two insanely short munchkin people and the smartest of the two was about to leave to go get water. Hmm.he thought, not sure what to do.  
  
And oh yes, the younger, smaller munchkin was hungry. And wanted to kick him in the ribs.. hmm.  
  
"WAIT!" he shouted, bolting up into a sitting position, eyes round with fear and arms compulsively covering up his ribs. As the two hobbits came back to him he broke into a sweat and started to look very clammy.  
  
"He's awake!" exclaimed Merry.  
  
"Doesn't look too good though, does he?" asked Pippin.  
  
"He'd look worse if you had decided to kick him," Merry retorted.  
  
"I just wanted to get him up, Merry. I'm hungry," Pippin repeated for the bajillionth time, pouting. Though it hadn't actually been the bajillionth time, and though Merry was quite sure that bajillion was not a real number, it seemed as if Pippin had stated his hunger somewhere within the imaginary number's vicinity.  
  
"You-you're not going to kill me, are you?" Macbeth asked nervously.  
  
"No!" said the smarter one, Merry. "Why would we do that?" he asked as he observed the ex-king, perplexed.  
  
"Just wondering." answered Macbeth, twiddling his thumbs and looking at the ground. Must NOT be paranoid, must NOT be paranoid.he repeated to himself silently. The last thing he needed was to freak out and kill someone. He had already done that at least three times and was messed up enough as it was. And it would be a shame to kill such interesting (and surprisingly cute, he had to admit) peoples as these. But then again, he did have an awful case of paranoia. and insanity, while he thought about it.  
  
~*~ So, how do you like it so far? There will be plenty more chapters, and soon the rest of the fellowship will come into play too! Yahoo! And more of our beloved Macbeth characters! Yay! Just tell me if you want to see anything in particular happen (couples, events, drunken brawls, more accurate characterizations, etc.) and I'll try to put it all in! Most of it will be random and from reviews, but the story line will follow the main LOTR plot, so do not be afraid! I may have to add in a few unnecessary stops along the way and ensuing chaos, though. heh heh ^ - ^.. ~*~  
  
Note: Something to look forward to in the next chappy! Macbeth becomes a pervy hobbit fancier! Woot! Oh, I do so love ruining these characters and their lives! They're just so.so. defenseless (*drools all over computer*). being characters that are non-corporeal and all, of course (ahem.*shifty glance*).  
  
Woot! First chappy's 12 pages in all (according to Microsoft word)! Please, tell me if you want chapter 2 shorter or longer than this one. I'll try to please the general majority. Your will is my command!... I mean, chapter. yeah. 


	2. a fairly drunken chapter

Disclaimer: I own neither Macbeth nor The Lord of the Rings now, nor the last time I wrote this stupid little dagnabity piece of -- ahem...I mean, this logical legal document that should precede every fanfiction in the world. Actually, I spooting hate it. Disclaimers are evil. And yes, I used spoot. And no, that's not mine either *sobs in corner*  
  
Do not worry though! After some bribing and blackmail, I will have both Macbeth and Lord of the Rings within my clutches!!! It might take a while. Shakespeare and Tolkien are surprisingly resistant to my advances... But then again, they're dead so... hmm. Never mind.  
  
Summary: Same as last time, unless I lied... but I didn't, so be at peace, young fanfictioneer! Or did I?! Naw, joke, joke! I didn't lie.... But, then again, how can you be so sure?!?! Hee hee! Never mind. Just fooling around. You know that I know that you know that neither of us knows where the spoot this is going, but it's bound to be funny if I have any say in the matter, so buckle your non-existent seatbelt and prepare for an entertaining ride! Just hope we don't crash.  
  
Apologies: Dear Tolkien and Shakespeare, please forgive me for what I'm about to do, and have already started doing, to your characters. I know it's wrong, but it's just too much darn fun to stop! And sorry for making you guys turn in your graves, as they say.  
  
Alrighty! Enough of my jabbering (though that is mainly what the story is composed of, and responses to the wondrous reviews are at the end) and onto:  
  
Dunsinane Hill  
  
Chapter two By: Spootasia Tomoe  
  
Macbeth paced restlessly in the darkness outside his previous home, Inverness. It had been a long time since he had told the munchkins the directions to the castle pantry and given them permission to raid as much of it as they wanted. Had they gotten lost? Or perhaps they had been captured! Would they reveal his whereabouts to the enemies?! No, he doubted it. They were above such things. He knew this because he had spent a few hours with the abnormally close to the ground men in the forest just before, learning of their past, their troubles and where they were going. Not until he had revealed to them a little about himself of course.  
  
He was very careful to leave out the crazed, hallucinogenic, paranoid, murdering part while telling them of himself. As much as he could anyway. Sometimes he slipped. A mention of a floating dagger here, prophecies there, an undeniably long speech concerning a certain 'ghost' that stole his chair at his feast in between. So he had a bit of a loose tongue... Hopefully they didn't notice.  
  
On the other hand, he was beginning to become worried. And not merely for his own well-being, but for the munchkins', which troubled him a little more. Normally he was self-centered and mistrustful to the point of freaking out and jumping off a cliff. That was mostly his wife's fault, that dratted woman. He was a better person before, and the hobbits, as they called themselves, made him feel more like that old Macbeth rather than this new tyrannical one. At least, what he thought he was like back then... it was kind of hard to remember who the hell he was between all the delusions and intense remorse and plain insanity. Yes, you guessed it. He was having an identity crisis.  
  
As he nervously waited in the dark wondering who he was and where his two new hobbit friends had gone a noise sounded behind him. It was a deep rumbling that sent vibrations through the earth below his feet and it frightened him at first until he recognized to noise to be Treebeard's booming footfall. Turning, he saw the outline of the massive ent against the huorns that had so annoyingly climbed the hill, scaring him out of his wits naught but five hours or so ago.  
  
"Hello, Treebeard," he whispered to the silhouette, another new friend he had acquainted himself with in the forest. It was weird, but he trusted these strangers, and though he kicked himself for it silently, trusting wasn't half bad. After all, they hadn't asked him to murder anyone. Well, not yet... Must NOT be paranoid, NOT be paranoid... Anyway... The ent wasn't half as frightening to Macbeth once he had heard him speak. A little boring actually, reminding him of the numerous old folk situated within his previous castle's walls.  
  
Macbeth made his way over to the ent in the dark. Being it dark and all, walking wasn't exactly one of Macbeth's brighter ideas (though it WAS better than his killing Duncan and assuming kingship one...). Inevitably, he tripped. Minding his own business, walking along, hits a root and suddenly, POW! He slammed right into the ground with the full of his face. That's got to be a bit of a downer, huh?  
  
Normally Macbeth would never have attempted such a stupid thing as walking next to a forest of mad trees in the dead of night, but seeing as this chapter was moving a bit too slowly, he was forced by some unknown power (mainly, me) into performing such and idiotic task. This predictably set him up for a fall, thus setting this chapter back into motion and introducing a little more humour into the mix. Sort of. The only problem was that it had made Macbeth feel quite foolish and therefore weakened his mental state. The only thing worse than an ex-king who is crazy and murderous and going through an identity crisis is an ex-king who is crazy and murderous and going through an identity crisis while at the same time being overly self-conscious and now even more paranoid that usual. You see, after having fallen Macbeth, took a hit to his self-esteem. Now everyone is going to have to deal with a Macbeth who is convinced that all are staring at him and making snide comments behind his back. Not a good thing for a delusional serial killer once-sovereign to think.  
  
Treebeard, seeing the man fall through the darkness, walked to him and picked him up, setting him gently back down a few feet away from the forest edge. Macbeth, grateful for Treebeard's kindly actions, but more so for the fact that the ent had not stepped on him, thanked Treebeard sincerely. Which was important, seeing as Macbeth had been having some trouble being both sincere and truthful of late. Unfortunately, this did not mean he was any less paranoid.  
  
After being set down again, he was forced to wonder, Is he laughing? Is that TREE laughing at ME? And then came to the conclusion that, yes! That tree IS laughing at me! I can see his shoulders shaking from trying to hold it inside!! Thankfully, Treebeard was a little too tall for Macbeth to get into a fight with and Macbeth was feeling a little too intimidated and foolish to say anything about his 'laughter' instead. Rather, Macbeth merely seethed inside. Now that can't be very good for a delusional serial killer once-sovereign, either. Don't worry though, I'm sure that some day all of our little friends will sit down and have a talk about all of their little problems. Opening up can work wonders. Really, I know.  
  
Gingerly, Macbeth raised a hand to his nose, which was bleeding from the impact with the ground and seemed to be broken by the feel of it. "Ah, hmm. Here," said Treebeard, lowering a bowl of clear liquid, "drink this. Men and hobbits should learn not to be so hasty. It is dangerous."  
  
"Thanks," Macbeth answered, annoyed this time at having been reprimanded by a walking, talking tree for being too 'hasty.' And a nasty wound to his non- existent ego that was as well. Macbeth seemed to be having a very rough day. Perhaps he should have gone inside with the hobbits and sneaked some gin or ale or something. Well, it was too late now. Maybe in the morning, he mused.  
  
"It will help to take the pain away; hmm, though do not drink too much. It is a potent draught, for one such as yourself, hoom." Macbeth, having heard the beginning of Treebeard's words but not the caution he also gave, took a great swig of the stuff. And it did take the pain away quite effectively. It also gave him a warm, giddy feeling inside that made him eager to have more. Before either Treebeard or Macbeth knew it, Macbeth had become completely and totally drunk and the bowl previously filled with the strong ent draught was now drained to the very last drop.  
  
And I mean Macbeth was drunk. Stumbling all over, rude and uncalled for comments, squinty eyes, uncontrollable laughter, the whole bit. Treebeard had a hard time keeping the intoxicated king quiet so that he didn't alert the whole population of Inverness of their presence, but somehow the ent managed it. But that didn't mean Macbeth stopped talking. Oh, no, not at all. That night Treebread found that a hasty yet sober man was better than one who decided to tell out his whole life story as slowly as possible. Every last blasted detail. But it would have been worse had Macbeth gone in with the hobbits, gotten drunk and passed the beverages to the small ones, inebriating them as well. Treebeard let out a heavy sigh as Macbeth rambled on about his seventh year in life.  
  
"An' tha's when," Macbeth slurred in a depressed tone, "I were told, no! Macbeff, you can' 'ave any no more horses!" He swayed a bit, putting out an arm to steady himself against the tree that Treebeard had relocated him near for just that purpose. The funny thing was, he was sitting down. How anyone can manage to almost fall over while sitting, drunk or not, I don't know. But Macbeth sure managed it a couple times that night. And sometimes he did fall, worsening his already crooked nose.  
  
"An' i' weren't even my fault tha' them horses 'ad jumped offa tha cliff a year before. But, no! They wouldn' lisen' ta me!" he slurred some more, going into a drunken rant for some time. Treebeard listened patiently enough, but now he was considering never giving another man another ent draught ever again. Men were just too hasty and he didn't want to have to sit through this every time someone got a scrape and he offered to help. The hobbits were bad enough! Treebeard started to daydream, leaving Macbeth to his ranting which had quickly changed from not getting any horses to Banquo going against him and having a son. Macbeth, in his current condition, did not realize that Banquo had already had his son when the witches prophesized that Banquo would "beget kings(which was the witches way of telling Macbeth that he would have to give the throne up to Banquo's sons)."  
  
Now you can imagine it was very painful for Macbeth to think of his lineage not going on forever, but it was even worse for the young, innocent English students who had to read the king's pointless broodings. And they were pointless. I mean, they all knew Banquo was going to die anyway! Get over the moral part of it, Macbeth! This is a tragedy! Kill someone! But, alas, the character did not hear them from within the thin paper booklet and went on brooding for another half an act. Dark times those were. Dark, dark times.  
  
~*~ But enough of that! Let's see how our hobbit friends are doing in the pantry, shall we? ~  
  
"Pour, Pippin, pour!" Merry hurriedly urged to his cousin as the young Took tried to fill his cup with golden colored ale.  
  
"Wait a moment, will you? I don't want to spill! That would be an awful waste of a fine drink!" Pippin responded, trying not to go to fast for fear of the precious liquid sloshing over the edges of the cup. The two hobbits had indeed found the pantry of Inverness, and a marvelous place it was. It had everything a hobbit could hope for and perhaps even a little more. Save pipeweed, of course, which they didn't even come across one leaf of. That they had found more than disappointing, but they didn't let it keep them down once they had discovered the giant man sized mugs and the full kegs of ale. And it wasn't very hard to find the kegs either. In fact, they had been quite out in the open and had conveniently had the mugs located right next to them and within hobbit-reach (that was, ahem, my fault. Sorry. Couldn't resist...^ ^;;).  
  
"Less talking, more pouring!" Merry answered, eyeing the frothing liquid with the look of someone who hasn't had a drink in years. Finally, when the man-sized mug was filled to the brim (which would have definitely been more than an acceptable amount for our dearest Merry on any other occasion) he gratefully sat down and took a few gulps, leaving Pippin to pour his own up to the very top and said, "Oh, I do wish they had pints like this back in the Shire!"  
  
"Mmm!" Pippin exclaimed, sitting back next to his dearest cousin. "I know what you mean. I am hardly ever allowed to drink this much back home!" With that he took a great mouthful of the liquid, sighing as the alcoholic induced warmth spread from the curly mop on the top of his head right down to the other curly mops covering his hobbit feet.  
  
"Now, not too much there, Pip," said Merry, glancing at Pippin's mug which was almost spilling over. He, himself, had drained close to half his own mug in the space of a few seconds, but he was known back home for being able to hold his liquor. Pip, on the other hand, was a younger, less experienced hobbit in the ways of, bluntly put, becoming smashed, and so Merry felt it was his responsibility to make sure he didn't have too much. Reaching over, he took the mug from Pippin's hand and transferred about one third of it into his own before the young hobbit could even begin to complain.  
  
"Hey!" Pippin shouted, grabbing his drink back from Merry, its contents less than what it had been before. "What was that for?" he asked, upset, as Merry took another swill of ale.  
  
"Well, being the older hobbit, I have to look out for you, don't I?" Merry mused, licking the ale from his lips. "And you had much more in your mug then you are capable of unless you're planning to be carried from this room out cold. And I figured since I can't let you drink it all if I was at all responsible, I'd have to take it upon myself in good conscience!" he finished, flashing Pippin a genuine smile.  
  
"In good conscience?" Pippin asked. "How can that be in good conscience when you stole my drink, Merry, you crook?!" To that Merry began to laugh until he saw Pippin down the rest of his mug, take Merry's and then begin to down that too.  
  
"Pippin! And who's the crook now, hmm?" Merry queried as he tried to wrestle the mug out of Pippin's steadfast grip. "Oh, give it back, Pip!" he grumbled still finding it hard to reach the glass that Pippin held behind his back.  
  
"Now, now, Master Meriadoc. I do believe you've had enough. I'm cutting you off!" Pippin said between giggles. After a few moments wrestling over the mug it noisily clattered to the ground, what was left of its contents spraying all over the floor as it fell. The two hobbits stopped a moment to stare at the ale seeping into the cracks of the stones of the pantry before they began to hurriedly try to get more into another mug while striving to thwart the attempts of the other. In the end, the duo collapsed to the ground, tired of fighting and soaked through with ale though they had gotten none into their mugs.  
  
"You know," Merry said breathlessly to his cousin, "maybe I'll let you have your fill just this once. After all, I can't be expected to be responsible all the time." With that he got up from the floor and filled the mugs. Returning to where Pippin sat, he dropped to the floor yet again. Thanking him, Pippin took the glass from his hands and began to sip at it. If he was going to be trusted with such an amount, he reckoned he had better take it slow and show that he, too, could hold his liquor. If he didn't he'd face an eternity of mocking by Merry that he probably would never live down.  
  
Exhausted from their little bout, the two of them failed to notice the faint footsteps resonating down the hallway towards the pantry they were effectively trapped in. After all, it had but one entrance.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
"And Macbeth's body still lies out in the field?" asked the young King Malcolm of Macduff. Malcolm, having just been named King of Scotland, was going to prepare for a feast with his newest and greatest ally. They were on their way to they pantry to decide what such a feast should be composed of, but little did they know what they would find within its doors. Unaware of what was about to happen they continued on with their conversation. Macduff was telling Malcolm of how he had found Macbeth outside in the field. Malcolm was quite curious, actually. It was making Macduff a little annoyed, if not downright jealous. He may be king, but he was awfully nosy when it came to Macbeth, the seemingly dead traitor.  
  
"Why, yes it does. The last time I checked anyway... For what reason do you ask?" Macduff replied, suspiciously. What was the purpose of such a question as that anyway? Surely if the tyrant was dead he would stay in one spot, would he not?  
  
"Well, you see Macduff, a little while ago I walked out of the castle--" and then King Malcolm stopped talking, standing still as a frightened deer in the hall, straining as if to hear something.  
  
"What is it, Sire?" Macduff asked, stopping as well to look about him. There was no one else in the hall, save for themselves, but as he paused silently he became aware of what sounded like two people deep in conversation. But where were they? Who were they? Macduff was quite sure that the owners of these disembodied voices were not of the English or the Scottish. Their accents were too unusual to be. Well, one of them, slightly younger than the other by the sound, had something close to the Scottish accent common to Inverness, but it was most definitely from another part of the land. Somewhere farther up north perhaps... How curious.  
  
King Malcolm took a step towards the pantry, still struggling to hear the strangers' words. As he reached the door, surprisingly ajar, he peeked inside and then withdrew immediately, apparently startled by what he saw. Motioning for Macduff to come and take a look he stepped back and leaned against the wall of the hall in thought.  
  
Macduff stepped up to the crack of space separating the door from its frame, peering into the castle's store room in turn. For a moment he saw no one until he noticed two young lads sitting on the ground with a mug full of ale each. He chuckled to himself silently at the sight until he took a closer look, wondering whose they children were, and saw that, no!, they were NOT children but rather very short, strange looking men! How peculiar...!  
  
~*~ and now, review responses!:  
  
Nothing! I didn't get ONE review!!! Sigh... well, that's okay I guess... I'll just go retreat into my room and crouch in the corner, sobbing uncontrollably... sniff sniff! Now look what you've done!! v . v  
  
' Hee hee. Just kidding. But really, feel free to review or flame. I swear it won't impair your health nor will I think you any the worse for it! So, what are you waiting for? Flames are most graciously accepted! I find the non-constructive ones funny so don't hesitate to leave them behind! *winks* ~ . ^ 


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